


The Lion

by Psithurisma



Category: VIXX
Genre: Character Death, F/M, Heavy Angst, Mafia rules based on the Sicilian Mafia, Toxic Relationship, mafia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-05
Updated: 2016-12-05
Packaged: 2018-09-03 13:05:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8715073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Psithurisma/pseuds/Psithurisma
Summary: “Capofamiglia, before you is a … willing candidate to join la Giungla.” Hongbin watched as the Capofamiglia’s hand – adorned in rings – made a dismissive wave, and the Consigliere stood and walked to the Capofamiglia’s side. It was then did the Capofamilglia finally acknowledged him, head slowly turning over to regard him. The man’s gaze made Hongbin feel exposed and uncomfortable, and Hongbin could almost see a ghost of a smile upon his lips. He noticed the Consigliere glaring at him, and Hongbin dropped to a knee like the advisor had done before him. “Did you bring something for me?” The boss’ voice was quiet, soft almost, but there was no denying the amount of authority and power within it. Before him was a man who did not have to raise his voice to be heard.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [leaderdino](https://archiveofourown.org/users/leaderdino/gifts).



Hongbin watched the grotesque skylines through the grime green windows of the limousine. Pluming smoke came from towering chimneys, large screens displaying advertisement for off-world colonies brighter than anything else. The car purred, a sound much different than that of the coughing and growling of the hover cars he was used to. Hongbin’s watch told him it was day, though with the sun rarely seen through the screen of smog, it didn’t ever mean too much anymore when the days were always dark.

 

A soft ballad from times long ago that Hongbin barely knew played from the radio. Hongbin’s gaze shifted to the driver, whose face he could barely see in the clouded rear view mirror. It wasn’t like the driver actually had to control the car - not with fluorescent lines zig-zagging down the highways that the cars couldn’t pull away from – he figured the man was there to make sure they got to the destination. A body guard, perhaps, but not hired to protect _him._ The man seemed not much older than himself, but a lot more worn down. His jaw looked displaced and didn’t move smoothly when he had talked, as if whoever had done a Modification had scammed him. Hongbin wouldn’t be surprised if it were the case.

Hongbin’s pale fingers traced the borrowed cufflinks that he hoped to one day return. His mouth was dry, and if the driver had seemed friendly he might have asked if there was any water – though even if the driver _was_ friendly, he highly doubted there would be.

 

“The Lion doesn’t appreciate any time wasting,” the low rumble of the driver’s voice began. Hongbin supposed that the boss of this mafia’s reputation as the _King of the Jungle_ was used by his own family after all. “If you dawdle or seem to not take anything seriously, he’ll have you taken out.”  
  
Hongbin wondered what ‘taken out’ entailed, and tried not to react to it.  
  
“Do you have any offerings?”

 

“Yes,” Hongbin replied, eyelashes slanting down to the small parcel in his hand. The driver gave a small grunt of acknowledgement. Hongbin looked up again. “What did you offer?”  
  
“A snake skin,” Hongbin thought he could see a twinkle of amusement in the man’s eyes through the mirror. “Was fucking hard to get, I tell you. No such thing as snakes anymore.”  
  
“No such thing as most animals anymore…” Hongbin’s voice trailed off, looking down at his envelope. Even unmodified humans were becoming rarer and rarer, soon Hongbin knew people would start becoming more mechanical than flesh.  
  
“Naw, those robotic ones are apparently just like the real thing. Programmed and everything, and you don’t even need to feed it.” Hongbin doubted the animatronic replacements were able to properly resemble life, but he wasn’t about to argue with him.

 

He chewed on his bottom lip, looking up to watch the broken city, but the windows were suddenly pitch black; including the rear window and the panel between himself and the driver. There was no light, and his fingers trailed against the ceiling to find the light to see, only to find there was none.  
  
“Can’t have you knowing where the headquarters are,” he heard the driver’s voice; Hongbin couldn’t see anything, his eyes were unable to adjust. “In case you, ya know, fail to be accepted.”  
  
“I won’t be,” Hongbin said flatly. He had too much on the line.  
  
His driver snorted. “That’s the spirit.”

 

 

 

 

Hongbin was blindfolded before he was taken – or more so, manhandled - out of the limousine, his hands tied in front of him. The parcel was also removed. He heard sloshing of water underneath his feet, felt the dirty rain spitting down upon them. Gruff voices and rough hands pushed him along. Hongbin really wished they could be more civilized about it.  


His wrists were taken, and Hongbin found it hard not to instinctively wrench it away, but instead his hands were guided to the handrail. He was told there were stairs. Hongbin thanked them quietly, gripping on the handrail as the stairs creaked underneath him, the rain long gone and was replaced with muffled conversation below.  
  
At the end of the stairs, and what felt like ten minutes of walking, Hongbin heard a new voice. It was unlike the low barking orders of what Hongbin assumed were low-ranking members, for they exclaimed what appeared to be a name for a superior at his entrance.  
  
“Did you strip search him?”  
  
“Oh—uh,” The men that had lead Hongbin to wherever they were seemed to fumble around.  
  
“You idiots, what if he turned on you during your venture here?”  
  
“B-But, _Consigliere,_ his hands are tied—“  
  
“I’ve seen a man kill more people with a knife in his mouth than you have in your life-time,” the _Consigliere_ barked. Hongbin’s jaw clenched. “Search him.”  
  
Hongbin’s hands were then untied without a word, and was asked to lift them. His blazer was stripped and he heard the fabric rummage behind him. His pants were next, his legs patted down, being asked to lift his feet so his shoes could be taken off and investigated. His dress shirt was opened too, and Hongbin tilted back his head and sighed to himself. He really hoped he’d be able to get back the cufflinks, at the very least. He was stripped to his underwear, and even that was patted down.  
  
“Everything’s okay, _Consigliere._ Nothin’ in any of his pockets, and no weapon in the parcel,” one of the men concluded, and finally _, finally,_ Hongbin was able to see. Along with his sight, he was given back his clothes. Many years ago, Hongbin would have been perhaps ashamed to be half-naked amongst strangers, but now he dressed with nonchalance before he finally surveyed his surroundings, and his parcel was given back to him.  
  
The elven-like face of the man in front of him, whom he assumed was the _Consigliere,_ showed hardly any emotion at all. He was being surveyed; and the _Consigliere_ stepped forward once Hongbin was fully dressed. Despite the soldiers having proclaimed that Hongbin was unarmed, the _Consigliere_ patted him down; Hongbin obediently raising his arms for him again. He noticed the _Consigliere_ had a bionic arm.  
  
The _Consigliere_ leaned forward, his full lips almost pressed against Hongbin’s ear. “You are about to meet the most dangerous man in this city,” he began lowly, his hands lingering on Hongbin’s waist. “You will greet him only as _Capofamiglia_ , and will not speak unless spoken to. Any action I do not approve of will be your last. Are we clear?”  
  
“Yes,” Hongbin replied, but the _Consigliere’s_ grasp on Hongbin’s waist tightened; nails digging in to the point Hongbin had to swallow a wince. “Yes, _Consigliere_.”  
  
The _Consigliere_ stepped back and walked towards the holographic panel against the wall in front of them. He lay his bionic palm against the hologram, and they all silently watched as the machine scanned it. A small camera came out from the wall and his eyes were scanned as well. A speaker above them made a chiming noise and the wall lowered to reveal another hallway. The _Consigliere_ led them to the larger doors at the end that opened automatically upon their arrival.  
  
Hongbin noticed that the men surrounding them as they walked were all armed; there were seven at least, and Hongbin supposed it would be hard to escape if he _did_ happen to do something the _Consigliere_ didn’t approve of. As the doors slid shut behind him when they all entered – the soldiers obstructing Hongbin’s view before him – Hongbin supposed that the click of the locked doors sealed his fate.  
  
There was no going back now.  
  
The men before Hongbin suddenly turned and resumed their position against the surrounding walls. Hongbin looked up to see the _Consigliere_ bow before the man that sat on what could only be said as a throne; old and ornate, wood that had been carved to reveal the face of a roaring lion. The head of _la Guingla_ surely took to being called the Lion.

 

The man upon the throne was pale as death itself. An intense, feline eye whose gaze lowered at his advisor before him. The other eye – or perhaps, lack there of - was covered by a decorative eyepatch that appeared to be twisted thorns - tied around his head with thin black chains that disappeared into his wispy dark hair.  
  
“ _Capofamiglia,_ before you is a … willing candidate to join _la Giungla_.” Hongbin watched as the _Capofamiglia’s_ hand – adorned in rings – made a dismissive wave, and the _Consigliere_ stood and walked to the _Capofamiglia’s_ side.

 

It was then did the _Capofamilglia_ finally acknowledged him, head slowly turning over to regard him. The man’s gaze made Hongbin feel exposed and uncomfortable, and Hongbin could almost see a ghost of a smile upon his lips. He noticed the _Consigliere_ glaring at him, and Hongbin dropped to a knee like the advisor had done before him.  
  
“Did you bring something for me?” The boss’ voice was quiet, soft almost, but there was no denying the amount of authority and power within it. Before him was a man who did not have to raise his voice to be heard.  
  
“Yes, Capofamilglia,” Hongbin replied, glad that his voice was steady. He revealed the parcel, and Hongbin watched as the boss slowly stood up from the throne. Everyone in the room immediately stiffened, and even the Consigliere flinched, taking a step forward.  
  
“Capofamiglia, I truly advise against—“ but his voice halted the second the boss raised a silencing hand, and descended down the stairs. Hongbin watched, very still, as the man’s heavy boots thudded dully against the cool steel underneath him. He walked as if he dictated time itself, and came to a halt before him.  
  
Hongbin made sure to hide his face of any emotion despite his heart pulsing in his throat.

 

The Capofamiglia took the small parcel from Hongbin’s hands almost casually, long pale fingers prying open the top before sliding the gift onto his palm. The man studied it with immediate interest; his other hand flipping the eye-patch up to see a bright blue, bionic eye whirring to life, scanning the ornate trinket in his palm. It was a small, wittled statue of an elephant.  
  
The whole room was silent, the atmosphere tense and heavy on Hongbin’s shoulders.  
  
“This is authentic ivory.” The Capofamiglia stated softly, before sliding the eye-patch back on, gaze lowering to Hongbin. “I have not seen ivory in a long time, where did you find this?”  
  
“It was a gift,” Hongbin replied honestly. He knew it was vague, but it was better than a lie. “from an old friend, Capofamiglia.”  
  
“I see.” Hongbin watched as the Capofamiglia pocketed the trinket. “Stand.”  
  
Hongbin stood obediently, and Hongbin heard the soldiers surrounding them growing uneasy. The Capofamiglia’s hand rose again to silence them, but then moved to Hongbin’s throat.  
  
Hongbin dared not move, but couldn’t help but flinch when the man’s knuckles gently, slowly, trailed up Hongbin’s neck before taking his chin. He tilted his head up, exposing him.  
  
“What a pretty thing,” The Capofamiglia’s voice almost crooned, and Hongbin shuddered, trying to relax. “Delicate. Your bones look as fragile as a bird’s. Do you really expect me to believe you can do anything for my family like this?”

  
The Capofamiglia removed his hand, turning on his heel and returning to his throne. Hongbin felt his lungs remember to breathe again. “It makes me want to watch you defend yourself. Silvano, kill him.”  
  
Hongbin knew from the beginning that even these men wouldn’t be stupid enough to wield guns within what was ultimately a steel box where a bullet would richochet. The guns wouldn’t wield bullets, so it was likely they weren’t actually guns at all. He swerved before he heard the first spark of electricity from what he assumed to be Silvano’s tazer, pivoting on his foot towards the direction of the sound.  
  
Silvano was easily twice his size, both in build and height, and ran toward him with murderous conviction. Hongbin braced himself, and then moved at the last minute as the tazer was shot. He narrowly missed the beam of yellow light by ducking under it, but instead of running away from the direction of the gun, Hongbin ran towards it. Now underneath his gun, one of Hongbin’s hands grasped the barrel and pulled it forwards with Silvano’s momentum, the other simultaneously pushing up at the man’s wrists.

 

As fast as it was, Silvano’s body clashed into Hongbin’s smaller one. The gun flipped out of his hand and clattered away as Hongbin’s body was thrown forward by the strength of Silvano’s momentum. Hongbin caught himself on the ground, rolling away and up, adrenaline shot through his veins as he was already running towards an unarmed Silvano while he registered what had happened.  
  
Silvano at least registered he no longer had a gun, for he swung a punch. Hongbin dodged, and the movement seemed almost nostalgiac, the way he served to dodge, to use the force of the man’s strength against him. Previous fights flashed before his eyes; different settings but the adrenaline was the same; clouding inhibitions and giving him an urge to _survive._  
  
Hongbin ducked another punch, noticing how Silvano stepped forward when he did so; his whole body’s weight lurching onto one foot. Hongbin smiled.

 

Hongbin took a step back, baiting the man another punch, hands curled into fists before his chest. He heard soldiers sneer behind him; how was this waify boy going to defend himself like that?  
  
Silvano threw another punch again, and Hongbin swerved, but this time locked his own ankle with Silvano’s weaker one, and kicked up, throwing Silvano off balance. Silvano fell against the floor with a deafening _thunk_ , and was about to get up before he felt something cold against the nape of his neck, and cried as his arm was suddenly twisted against his back.  
  
Hongbin had one hand grasped against Silvano’s trembling wrist. He had locked him in a hold, and the other clasped around the tazer gun, pointing it straight at one of Silvano’s arteries. Hongbin looked up, mouth parted in heavy pants, and saw how the Capofamiglia sat almost like royalty, a leg crossed over his knee, his elbow on his arm-rest, his chin resting on the back of his palm.  
  
He smiled, just a little, but it was enough to make Hongbin’s heart speed up again.  
  
“Let him go,” the Capofamilglia ordered, and Hongbin did so, immediately standing up.

 

Silvano was slower to rise, obviously stricken by his defeat. Hongbin heard quiet jeers from behind as Hongbin returned the man’s tazer, trying not to show how smug he felt.  
  
“Impressive,” the Capofamilglia mused. “So the pretty bird can dance, too. Tell me, what is your name?”  
  
“Lee Hongbin,” Hongbin replied.  
  
The Capofamilglia tsked. “No, we do not use our birth names here. We have a code of secrecy you must abide by if you wish to become a part of _la Giungla_.”  
  
“Do you have a name for me, Capofamilglia?” Hongbin asked softly. He could tell, immediately, that the question entertained him. His eye sparkled with amusement. Hongbin felt himself grew warm at the thought he’d pleased him.  
  
“Amongst _la Giungla_ , your name will be Rabbit,” Hongbin pretended not to hear the barks of laughter behind him. They immediately subsided though, for the Capofamilglia silenced them by raising his hand once more. “You certainly are as nimble and agile as one. However, this was only your first test of three. Your _Caporegime_ will take you to your bunker.”  
  
On cue, the steel doors slid open to reveal his limousine driver, now adorned in all black like the rest of the men. His sleepy eyes looked over towards Hongbin, and his eyes glittered a little. He then looked over to the _Capofamilglia,_ acknowledging him with a deep bow before coming to Hongbin’s side.  
  
“Ravi, take him to Cell Three, where he will await further instruction. Rabbit,” Hongbin turned and looked up at the Lion, who looked like he was undressing Hongbin with his eyes. Hongbin’s mouth felt dry. The Capofamilglia was both beautiful and intimidating, like true royalty. “Continue to impress me, and you will be rewarded.”  


“Y-yes, Capofamilglia.” He would deny he stuttered to the end of his days, bowing before his Caporegime took him by the crook of his elbow, steering him out.  
  
  
  
~~

 

  
Jaehwan watched as the back of the possible family member disappeared behind the steel doors, sighing once all the men but a few were gone. His Capofamilglia hadn’t moved at all, his chin still resting on the back of his palm, eyelashes slanted down in thought.  
  
“What do you make of him, _Consigliere?”_   The Capofamilglia’s voice was as soft as usual, but he didn’t raise his head, and instead stared at the door where the boy had left.  
  
Jaehwan wet his lips, considering the question for a moment before he spoke. “If I may be blunt, Capofamilglia, I do not trust him at all.”  
  
“What is your reason?” It was then, did the Lion move, his head turning a little towards him, but not looking up at him.  
  
“He is too vague, too… comfortable in high-stress situations,” Jaehwan said softly. “You saw how he fought, he fought as if he has been in those situations for a long time, as if he is trained.”  
  
“He could have been raised in an area that forced him to fight for his life to get anywhere and have turned into skilled street fighters; I have seen many men like that, from the slums.”  
  
“A man from the slums? With a suit like that?” Jaehwan flinched as the Lion’s head snapped up to glare at him, and Jaehwan’s mouth closed, bowing his head. “I apologize, Capofamilglia.”  
  
The Lion stared at him a few moments, before turning his head. “You have a point, however. A man with a suit like that… and owning such a valuable trinket…” Jaehwan watched as the Lion turned the piece of ivory slowly with his fingers as he thought. “What a mysterious man… I want him.”  
  
Jaehwan frowned. “You want him, Capofamilglia?”  
  
“Yes,” the Lion’s voice trailed off, as if in a trance. “I want him. I want to have him.”  
  
Jaehwan said nothing, looking forward, until the Capofamilglia spoke again.  
  
“But you think he is a spy. Police, I assume?” He asked, almost casually.  
  
“He didn’t kill Silvano, but kept him in an arm lock. Not many men would resort to that when they had a gun in their hand to kill a man that had been ordered to kill him.” Jaehwan pursed his lips, pausing, before he concluded, “yes, I think he is a spy. He cannot be trusted.”  
  
“How certain are you of this?” The Lion asked slowly, calculating. Jaehwan tried to ignore the chill running down his spine.  
  
“Quite.”  
  
The Lion stood from his throne, the motion graceful, and his head turned to Jaehwan. His gaze was intense as always, but there was something within it that Jaehwan didn’t recognize. “Then it will be on your own head.”  
  
  
~~  
  
  
“That was impressive, Rabbit.” Ravi told him, hand still grasping the crook of Hongbin’s elbow, leading him further downstairs and into an elevator. Hongbin noticed the impressive amount of floors that went both above and below. Ravi pressed one of the buttons below, and the elevator began to make its way down.  
  
“You were there?”  
  
Ravi smiled a little, small lips pursed, and eyes glittering. “I was watching it on the CCTV. Admittedly I was curious about you – it seems that Boss is too.”  
  
Hongbin didn’t know what to make of that. He blinked, and found himself looking down at his feet. “What… what is he like?”  
  
Ravi raised an eyebrow. “The Boss? Terrifying. He’s not afraid of killing even his own men if he feels they are inadequate, but in a way he’s also awe-inspiring. So his men are scared of him, but still want to work for him.” Ravi shrugs. “He’s the boss of one of the biggest mafias in the state, so of course he isn’t going to be a… warm and nice man. Everyone knows that.”  
  
Hongbin licked his lips quickly. “And the Consigliere?”  
  
Ravi bristled a little, but not out of fear or intimidation. Hongbin perked up at that, eyes wide and immediately interested. He couldn’t help but smile, his mouth twisting smugly.  
  
“Would you prefer me not to ask?”  
  
Hongbin noticed the little red on Ravi’s cheeks as he nodded, the movement slight. Hongbin tried not to snort.  
  
He cleared his throat, watching the numbers change as they went to basement three (there was, in fact, five basements). Ravi immediately stepped forward with the chime of the elevator, the doors sliding aside. It revealed a long metal hallway of doors, and Hongbin looked back behind him as the doors slid shut with a rumble. He noticed in order to hail the elevator you needed to scan a handprint like the Consigliere had done earlier.  
  
It meant he couldn’t get out, wherever he was.  
  
Ravi lead him, rather casually, Italian shoes clicking against the metal floors before stopping and raising his hand to the door. It scanned his handprint, beeping in affirmative. Hongbin watched as the door before him dropped into the ground, and Ravi pushed him into the room. Hongbin stumbled, and looked back but the door had already shut again, the door clicking in place. Ravi looked at him through the slot of the door. “You’ll spend the night here. You aren’t part of the family yet, so we can’t take any chances, you know? So sleep well and we will come back for you tomorrow morning or somethin’.”  
  
Ravi slid the slot closed, and Hongbin heard his low voice rumble a ‘nighty-night’ before he walked away. Hongbin’s face hardened immediately, crossing his arms and looking around. He supposed he definitely should have expected it in hindsight. It seemed, simply, the obvious choice to lock him up until the rest of the trials were done.  
  
His room – or cell, as he bitterly thought – was small; a single bed adjacent to a bedside table whose lamp’s light was a worn and dull orange. A one-person dining table with a chair that looked it might just collapse under Hongbin’s weight, but there was a tiny fridge next to a counter with a sink with an old microwave. Hongbin immediately lowered to the fridge, kneeling before it at the very prospect of food, his mouth parched. He found a bottle of water and a small microwavable meal.  
  
He shoved the meal into the microwave, having to bend down and press the buttons a few times for it to actually register, even slamming his fist on it to get it whirring properly. Ignoring the old chair, he sat down on the bed instead with his bottle of water, unscrewing the cap and taking a few swigs. He sighed and wiped his mouth, taking off his suit jacket without much thought and hearing his cufflinks clatter on the tile as he dropped it. He ran his hands through his hair, feeling the grease begin to seep into his roots, and his mouth twisted. He couldn’t hear anything but the microwave hum, and his own breath.  
  
What had his life become.  
  
He took more sips of his water, though afterwards found himself dazed and unable to think. His vision couldn’t focus either, and before Hongbin knew it he had collapsed onto the bed, unconscious before his meal was barely cooked.

 

 

~~  
  
  
Hongbin’s head was whipped to the side, a searing pain up his cheekbone. Dazed, he looked up blearily. A cold light in the room dangled above his head, though he was barely able to register anything in front of him before his face was hit once more, backhanded; feeling the knuckles against his cheek. Hongbin looked up afterwards, and went to get up, though found his limbs tied to the chair he was sitting on. He hissed to himself, fists clenching at the rope tied around his forearms to the arms of the chair.  
  
“Ah, good, you’re awake.” He squinted up to see a man, whose hand lowered back to his side. “I was hoping that you would return to us soon enough, I was getting bored.”  
  
Hongbin tasted blood in his mouth, and he chewed on the inside of his cheek to prevent him from saying anything. As his vision grew sharper, he recognized the man’s uniform as one of a government agency; certainly not one of the mafia, at the very least. Perhaps one that dealt with the situations that Hongbin had found himself in.  
  
“We found and raided headquarters of the infamous _La Guingla_ , last night.” Hongbin barely flinched at the man’s words, staring up at his features. Sharp cheekbones, a rounded nose, curved lips. His hair parted in the middle. “We found you, and some others, but not the King of the Jungle.”  
  
“So I’m assuming you want to know where he went?” Hongbin replied smoothly, and the man’s eyebrows raised.  
  
“Do you know where he went?” He asked quietly.  
  
Hongbin’s jaw clenched, and went to look away, but he was hit across the cheek again; harder, this time.  
  
“Look at me when I’m talking to you.” Hongbin did, head turning slowly, eyes gazing up, his stare cold. “Do you know where he went?”  
  
“No,” Hongbin sighed truthfully. He looked down at his bonds, testing them a little. They had been tied well and Hongbin was disappointed. The room was dark, so he couldn’t tell how many others were in the room – if there were – but Hongbin believed he’d have a good shot at taking at least this guy down.  
  
“I don’t believe you.” The man growled, stalking around him.  
  
“We’re going to be here a long time then.” Hongbin drawled, resigned, though when his hair was tugged from behind, his neck forcibly craning back. He gave a small grunt, and suddenly there was a mouth to his ear and a small, pointed blade to his neck. Hongbin hissed under his breath.  
  
“I really don’t have time for the sass, so either you co-operate or we do this the way I’d rather not do. The blood is messy to clean up, and our janitor has been asking for a raise lately.” He let go of Hongbin’s hair, who hung his head forward.  
  
“I’ll ask another question then,” he replied quietly. “How do you get into the… Throne room, of sorts?”  
  
Hongbin squinted. “I don’t know.” _Smack._  
  
“How did you get to _La Guingla_? Give me names.”  
  
Hongbin licked his lips; they were cracked, and his fringe was disheveled over his eyes. He looked down at his lap, sighing, opening his mouth to speak but this time, he was punched in the stomach; the shock of it rippling through him like waves. He groaned, wheezing as he was hit across the cheek again.  
  
“Give me _names.”_

  
Hongbin scoffed a little, panting. “The Lion.” He was rewarded with another punch, but this time hitting against his nose, cracking his neck to the side. Blood dribbled from his nose to his mouth; and he couldn’t wipe it away. The danger of the situation had adrenaline shoot up through his veins, and Hongbin only smiled.  
  
“That doesn’t count, you brat.” The man snarled, only getting angrier now. The knife was taken out again; Hongbin saw the glint of steel in the corner of his eye.  
  
“Who was your middle man? Who did you go through to find them? Who allowed you access? We want to track down any of their filthy sub-ordinates, running like rats in our streets.”  
  
Hongbin looked up at him through low eyelashes, his lips curling to smile again, though he predicted by the irritation that flashed upon the man’s features that he was about to get hit again, and braced himself. He got punched; winded, and then punched in the cheek straight after. It hurt, and his body burned, though the agent seemingly wasn’t done, for he booted the chair and Hongbin helplessly clattered to the ground.  
  
“If you will not help us, believe me when I say I will not hesitate to kill you.” He could only see the boots of the man as they walked towards him, and could only hear his hands grasp the chair to pull him back up. Hongbin was panting heavily now, blood soaking his chin and onto his dress shirt. His hair was then taken, chin tilted up as a knife was directed underneath it, blade pointing in a threat.  
  
“Kill me, then,” Hongbin spat blood into his face, and the man recoiled, enraged. He lifted his leg to kick Hongbin down again, though a voice rang through the air.  
  
“Enough, Alligatore.”  
  
Hongbin swallowed immediately, cringing a little at the blood in his mouth. The Lion unveiled himself from the dark of the room, as beautiful as he was earlier in the night, though now in a dark blue, silken shirt that exposed his white chest. The interrogator immediately calmed some at the Lion’s command, or at least willed himself to. Hongbin stared, a little dazed from the pain, though he understood immediately that this was just one of the trials. He licked his lips again, the taste of blood like rust in his mouth, though there was something sickenly sweet and familiar about it. Upon realizing he wasn’t going to be attacked any longer, Hongbin hung his head, trying to catch his breath.  
  
Though, his chin was tilted up. His breath caught when he found the Boss’ face so close to his, and that the Lion had even knelt down to his eye level. His fingers cradled Hongbin’s jaw as if he were handling a little bird with a broken wing, the other wiping the blood off Hongbin’s face with a cloth. Up close, the Lion was even more stunning; his pretty curved lips, his intense eye, his long eyelashes. Hongbin wanted to lean over and kiss his soft mouth, and the thought made him flush hot without warning.  
  
To make it worse, the Lion seemed to have noticed what must have been the tint to his cheeks underneath the blooming bruises and the blood, for he smirked, just slightly, but enough for Hongbin to shrivel from. “Do not worry, I asked Alligatore to not leave any scars…” He murmured, the words so intimate and quiet it was as if they were only for him.  For some twisted reason, Hongbin wished that was the case. “I wouldn’t want any changes to such a pretty face…”  
  
The Lion ran his knuckles against Hongbin’s cheekbone, and Hongbin held back a wince and a shiver as his fingers slowly trailed down his jaw, and down his neck. The Lion’s eyelashes slanted down to Hongbin’s chest, and slowly worked their way back up to his eyes. He seemed to hum in satisfaction, and Hongbin wondered if the tips of his ears were going red.  
  
“You will have to sign a contract,” The Lion murmured, as if it were information only Hongbin was allowed to hear. The Lion’s free hand lifted as a piece of parchment, rolled up in a ribbon, was placed in his hand. Hongbin’s eyes widened; it wasn’t often you actually saw paper being used; trees could barely survive under the charcoal skies, let alone be able to be used like they once were.  
  
The Lion must have seen the look on Hongbin’s face, for he smiled, but only just. “For important documents, we don’t have them digital. That way…” The Lion unravelled the piece of parchment. It was a contract, with a line at the bottom to be signed. “… we can’t get hacked.”  
  
Hongbin swallowed as the Lion’s head nudged in Hongbin’s direction. Alligatore stepped forward, taking out his knife once more but instead used it to cut Hongbin free of the bindings. Hongbin immediately massaged his wrists, though kept his eyes on the Lion. He was waiting for the Lion to give him a pen, though as the Lion slid the parchment into his hands and raising his hand again, Alligatore gave him a knife.  
  
The Lion’s eye sparkled, his bionic eye hidden under the intricate eye-patch. “Take out your hand, little Rabbit.” He murmured, and Hongbin obeyed.  
  
“No, your non-dominant hand, little Rabbit,” He purred, and Hongbin slowly swapped his hands before him, feeling himself warm at the way the Lion’s voice crooned. The Lion stood up then, wielding the knife as naturally as one might a pencil, and slowly drew a thin line down Hongbin’s palm. Beads of red immediately bloomed against his pale skin, and Hongbin fought not to wince as the Lion, his hold on Hongbin’s hand ever so gentle, lead his hand to the end of the parchment. His blood dripped onto the paper, and Hongbin shuddered.  
  
“Your birth-name is to be written here, mixed in with your blood,” the Lion murmured. “Your _given_ name just underneath.”  
  
This time, as the Lion simply put out his hand again, he was given a pen. With Hongbin’s dominant hand, he wordlessly signed.  
  
“And your fingerprint,” the Lion added, and Hongbin looked up at him for a moment, and dragged his thumb across his mouth, swiping across the red from his lips before pressing the pad of his thumb to the end of the parchment.  
  
The Lion seemed satisfied, whispering a little “good boy,” as he gave it to one of the men in the room to roll it up and leave with it. The Lion knelt down to his eye level again, and Hongbin felt if the Lion got any closer he was going to whimper.  
  
“You have done very well,” he murmurs, and Hongbin, after everything he’d ever been through, had never felt more vulnerable under the Lion’s gaze. It seemed ridiculous how bashful he felt at the Lion’s praise.

The Lion ran his knuckles gently against Hongbin’s neck again, and Hongbin exposed himself obediently, raising his chin without a word. The Lion laughed under his breath, tapping Hongbin on the cheek. “Such a good boy,” he murmured, standing up, and Hongbin tried not to shudder from the praise. “I will see you tomorrow for your final test. I truly hope you do not disappoint me, little rabbit.”  
  
He turned, raising a hand in dismissal. “Alligatore, please untie him and take him to one of the rooms. And without spiked food, this time.” Hongbin could hear the amusement in the Lion’s voice, and Hongbin glared at the floor. _Of course the food was spiked._

 

 

~~~

 

 

Wonshik nodded in acknowledgement to the man guarding the door, who bowed with a short _‘Caporegime.’_ He scanned his hand before the doors slid open, revealing the man he wanted to see. He was hunched over a computer, his hands made of metal and skin interlaced over his pretty mouth, eyebrows furrowing at the screen.  
  
“Consigliere…” Wonshik murmured once the doors shut behind him. The Consigliere didn’t look up, but his hands lowered to the table before him. It was an old, scratched mahogany, but if you were able to get hands on anything that came from natural resources these days you kept it.  
  
“Are we alone?” The Consigliere asked softly, looking up at Wonshik finally, through his pretty eyelashes. Everything about him was beautiful, to Wonshik, and he could never stop thinking about it.  
  
“Yes,” Wonshik replied softly, taking a few steps forward. The Consigliere’s hard face softened, then, and he twisted his body towards him so when Wonshik eventually sat beside him on the bench, Wonshik could sink into his arms.  
  
The Consigliere’s neck craned as Wonshik had begun to kiss his neck, open-mouthed, his hand slowly unbuttoning his dress shirt from the bottom. “Then call me…”  
  
“Jaehwan,” Wonshik breathed, breaking away, looking up at the man that made his heart throb in his throat as if he were a young school boy again. “Jaehwan, Jaehwan.”  
  
Jaehwan’s head tilted before he leaned over to kiss him, bionic hand raising to grip Wonshik’s short strands; just long enough to bunch between his fingers. Wonshik melted, moaning helplessly into Jaehwan’s mouth as they kissed over and over, open and messy.  
  
Wonshik forego half of the buttons and had dipped his hand underneath his shirt, palm travelling up against Jaehwan’s soft tummy. Most of the members of the mafia had abs, but since Jaehwan was on the Intel side and had never been a fighter, he was softer, and besides his synthetic arm, not as worn. Wonshik’s eyes fluttered as Jaehwan leant into the touch, but then hesitated, and the kiss broke away, leaving Wonshik panting, his hand still on Jaehwan’s skin.  
  
They met eyes, their mouths are mere breath apart, their noses brushing. Jaehwan closed his eyes then, leaning forward and pressed their foreheads together. Wonshik relished in the intimacy, relished in the fact that his feelings for someone so wonderful was reciprocated.  
  
“Not tonight,” Jaehwan said softly, slightly breathy. Wonshik’s heart dropped a little, though he didn’t complain. He understood. Jaehwan’s lips, pink and prettily swollen, pressed a kiss to Wonshik’s cheekbone, so precious it was almost chaste. He leaned away, back towards his laptop, and Wonshik felt his entire body pine for Jaehwan.  
  
He leant into Jaehwan’s side, head on his shoulder, and Jaehwan tried to shake him off. “I said no, Wonshik.”  
  
“I—I just want to sit with you,” Wonshik murmured softly, eyes closing shut, willing his heart to calm. “Just like this.”  
  
Jaehwan sighed softly, though the sound was fond. Wonshik smiled to himself as he heard Jaehwan’s fingers tap away on the keys.  
  
“What are you up to?” Wonshik asked.  
  
“I was watching the CCTV behind the Rabbit’s second trial.”  
  
Wonshik’s eyes opened slowly, looking up at Jaehwan. “How did he go?”  
  
Jaehwan’s mouth twisted unpleasantly; Wonshik wanted to know what he was thinking.  
  
“He passed. He seemed to take it well – Alligatore wasn’t even able to break him. I’ve seen men twice the size of Hongbin snivel on the ground and confess everything. But… then again…” Jaehwan sighed. “… Alligatore was not as rough as he was with the other members, because the Lion had asked him not to scar him.”  
  
Wonshik’s eyes widened. “What, why?”  
  
Jaehwan’s hand slowly ran down Wonshik’s thigh and squeezed gently. Wonshik pressed his lips together to muffle any incoming sounds. “… The Capofamiglia wants to… have him.”  
  
“Have him? In the mafia?”  
  
Jaehwan frowned. “No,” he snapped, hand removing from Wonshik’s thigh and back onto the keyboard. Wonshik pouted.  
  
Wonshik frowned, then, mulling it over. He blinked. “Oh…” His voice trailed off in realization. “Have him… like I want to have you?”  
  
Jaehwan stopped typing for a moment, to turn his head to Wonshik, who sat up a little. They met eyes, and Jaehwan stared, before his face finally softened. “No,” he replied, much quieter this time. “You love me, and I you, there is a difference.”  
  
Wonshik flushed a little, about to turn his head away. Jaehwan gently took his jaw before he could and Wonshik was forced to look up at him. “The Lion cannot love. Not like you can, and not like I can.”  
  
Wonshik melted into his touch, and melted into the kiss Jaehwan gave him, soft and sweet, as if they were young boys and not mafia members people bowed to. Though, there was a beeping at the door, and Jaehwan and Wonshik broke away immediately.  
  
The doors slid open, revealing one of their men; his posture rigid and his face like stone. “Consigliere,” he said with a slight bow, and Jaehwan stood up stepping out of the seat, closing his laptop. “You are needed in the Throne room, Capofamiglia wishes to do the final test for the new recruit.”  
  
“Did he say what it was?”  
  
“No sir, just that he wanted you to be there.”  
  
“He certainly is wishing to rush things,” he murmurs, having no idea what the Capofamiglia was planning. He gave Wonshik his laptop, who simply stared up at him. “It should not be too long, please put this in my quarters.”  
  
“Yes, Consigliere,” and did Jaehwan wish Wonshik didn’t have to call him that.

 

Jaehwan followed the man out without looking back, knowing he wasn’t allowed to show any affection or favoritism, even to the man he loved the most.  
  
  
  


 

Hongbin’s head turned when the door of his cell slid up into the ceiling, revealing the man who had interrogated earlier. He stood up immediately, food in his mouth, hands around the microwave meal that wasn’t spiked.  
  
“Capofamilgia wants you for the last trial,” Alligatore replied, surly. A suitcase in his hand, he put it on Hongbin’s table with a loud thunk.  
 

Hongbin put his microwave meal on the kitchen counter with a sigh. “I barely ate—“  
  
“You should have eaten faster,” he sighed, giving him a side look, beginning to unlock the case.  
  
“I didn’t want to get indigestion,” Hongbin grumbled, though Alligatore cut him off.  
  
“The Capofamilglia asked you to choose a weapon,” he began, and he opened the suitcase, revealing a range of knives, guns, even a taser and a pair of brass knuckles. “He didn’t say why, just to choose one you were most familiar with.”  
  
Hongbin walked towards the case, scanning them. So he supposed the final test was some kind of combat test, then; perhaps having to fight a whole group of men, this time.  
  
“My final test…” Hongbin’s fingers traced over one of the knives as he thought. “Is it in the throne room?”  
  
“I believe so,” Alligatore replied quietly. “Didn’t tell me otherwise.”  
  
Guns were simply off limits then. Couldn’t do for a bullet to ricochet and hit him. “Then I choose these,” there were a small collection of throwing knives that were attached to a holster, and when Hongbin picked one up, had a good weight, so he could likely fight in close combat with them as well.  
  
“Good,” Alligatore snapped the case shut and as Hongbin tied the holster to his belt. Alligatore turned, already leaving the room and Hongbin was quick to follow. “I will take you to the throne room.”  
  
Alligatore soon put his hand on the scanning block, and they went into the elevator. Hongbin sighed as Alligatore pressed the floor number, and then linked his hands behind his back, spine straight. Hongbin stared at him, “are you always like this?”  
  
“Like what.”  
  
“I dunno…” Hongbin didn’t really want to bad-mouth him. He regarded him carefully, “so…”  
  
“Uptight?” Alligatore suggested, looking at the closing doors.  
  
Hongbin flinched a little, “well, I wasn’t going to say that.”  
  
Alligatore had the ghost of a smile that showed more in his eyes than his mouth, looking thoughtful for a moment. “Do you think it would be wise to trust or be open to someone who isn’t yet part of a society that cloaks itself in secrecy?”  
  
Hongbin blinked, and then frowned. “No, I suppose not.”  
  
“Besides, I met you on the basis of the fact I had to attempt to break you,” Alligatore said quietly, “but, you seemed quite used to interrogation.”  
  
Hongbin was looking down, but he could feel Alligatore’s heavy gaze on him.  
  
The doors dinged, and it was like an autumn breeze that trembled through his bones. The long, cold steel hallway stretched out before them, lined with sentries either side. The door to the throne room was on the other side, and Hongbin, despite how accustomed he was to stressful situations, let out a breath he barely knew he was holding.  


At the end of the hallway, Alligatore scanned his palm, and the doors opened, revealing the Lion on his throne, and his Consigliere standing beside him. The Lion sat back from his previously bored posture, almost in anticipation.  
  
“Thank you, Alligatore. That will be all.”  
  
Alligatore slowly bowed his head before turning on his heel, the doors sliding open and then shut as he walked out.  
  
Hongbin’s eyes returned to the Lion’s, whose gaze was now on him like a spotlight. Hongbin remembered how Alligatore had bowed to him, and Hongbin did the same.  
  
As Hongbin straightened back up, he noticed the Lion gaze at him, expression indecipherable. “Did you choose your weapon, Rabbit? Are you ready for your final test?”  
  
The question caught him off-guard, and Hongbin blinked, before he nodded, bowing his head a little. “Yes, Capofamiligia, but he didn’t tell me what it was.”  
  
The Lion nodded, and straightened up a little, his posture elegant and beautiful. Hongbin shook himself of the thought and braced himself.  
  
There was an eerie silence, as if the Lion were contemplating something. Then, his face hardened, just a little, just enough for Hongbin to read that the Lion had come to a conclusion.  
  
“Kill the Consigliere.”  


 

 

 

 

The Consigliere had never been trained in combat. He had always been the man who could think of the strategy but needed someone else to carry it out. The Consigliere didn’t know how to dodge the knife flying towards him without hesitation, nor used to the pain screaming up his veins as the blade lodged itself between his ribcage. The Consigliere could barely see, and he couldn’t stand, for he fell to his knees just in time for another knife to strike him in the chest. The Consigliere fell, body tumbling down the cold stairs as if he had no bones to his name. The Consigliere could barely feel the hand grip his hair to expose his neck, nor the pain as the blade slid across his throat. For everything the Consigliere had gone through, after everything he had done, it seemed that his life had been taken so easily.  


 

  
Hongbin rose, hearing the Consigliere’s head thud back onto the ground, his blood cascading down the steps. The death was grotty, messy, and Hongbin’s steady hands were splattered incarnadine. Hongbin looked up, and barely had time to register just how close the Lion was before he was kissed, the Lion’s mouth warm, hungry, but controlled.  
  
Hongbin, more shaken by the kiss than the murder, exhaled shakily, breathing a: “Capofamiligia.”  
  
“You have done so well, Rabbit,” the Lion’s voice was sweet, comforting, and he cupped Hongbin’s face, thumb caressing his cheek. “Would you like your reward?”  
  
_Oh, please,_ “Yes, Capofamilglia.”  
  
“Good boy,” The Lion hummed, pretty lips smiling, and he kissed Hongbin again, not at all phased by the speckled across his face. He broke away, and his warm winded around Hongbin’s possessively,  “come.”  
  
 They walked down the stairs together, wary of the dripping blood. Hongbin could smell the Lion’s cologne, looking up at him only to feel anxious about the proximity, and he had to look away. As they came upon the door, they slid open, revealing a man whom Hongbin immediately recognized as Ravi, but there was a look in his eyes that Hongbin didn’t understand.  
  
“Ah, Ravi,” the Lion spoke easily, and Ravi’s head rather twitched forward instead of bowed. “There is a mess in the throne room, please have someone clean it up.”  
  
“Yes, Capofamilglia,” Ravi choked out, and as he looked down, Hongbin noticed the red of his eyes, how his cheeks had sunken. Though Hongbin never got to ask what was wrong, as the Lion tugged him along, and in the corner of his eye Hongbin saw Ravi’s trembling hands as he re-opened the door.

 

 

 --

 

 

Hongbin washed his hands in the Lion’s ensuite, pressing a warm towel to his face to clean himself off. He felt his pulse in his hands as he put the towel down; the Lion’s bathroom much more extravagant than anything he had seen; and his bedroom…  
  
Hongbin walked back into the Lion’s bedroom, seeing the large, four poster bed, carved with what looked like real wood, curtains draping off it, lavish cushions propped up on it, made perfectly.  
  
The Lion stood by the window, a remote in his hand, pressing buttons and changing the scenery they saw out of it. He flicked over twentieth century cityscapes of Paris, to soft waves down a stretch of sand, and as Hongbin walked closer, he noticed the Lion had changed into a dressing gown, silken and wine red.  
  
“Rabbit,” the Lion murmured without looking away from the window. “I cannot choose for tonight. Please choose for me.”  
  
He slipped Hongbin the remote before he assumed a position behind him, his head dipping to Hongbin’s neck, his hands slowly beginning to unbutton Hongbin’s dress shirt from the bottom up. Hongbin’s hands trembled as he slowly allowed himself to lean back into the Lion’s front, craning his neck away to expose him. He shivered.  
  
He flicked through the different sceneries. There were ones as if they were in a penthouse in New York, a rainforest, barren planes of a desert with a twinkling night sky. The Lion held Hongbin closer, possessively, slowly sucking a hickey into the junction of his neck. Hongbin’s moan trembled, finally settling on a scenery of vast open plains of grass and flowers with millions of stars above. By now, the Lion was already slipping Hongbin’s dress shirt off his shoulders, and Hongbin turned around to have his hips taken and pulled against the Lion’s.  
  
“Capo… Capo…” He heard the Lion laugh softly against his neck, and he slowly backed Hongbin against the window, pressing him there. The Lion sucked another mark, and Hongbin screwed his eyes shut. Oh, oh. He felt so warm, he felt so needy, and as the Lion slowly rolled his hips into Hongbin, he didn’t think he’d be able to last very long.  
  
The Lion broke away, and Hongbin slowly lifted his arms to try and loosen the sash around his robe, though his hands were brushed away. “No,” the Lion murmured, and Hongbin obeyed. “I want you to get on the bed, against the cushions.”  
  
So Hongbin did, and he felt the Lion’s eyes trailing his body as he climbed upon the bed. As he settled against the cushions, he watched that the Lion had now turned away, lifting his hands to untie the eye patch around his head. Hongbin watched as the Lion’s ringed ringers ran through his hair, how the rings were then taken off, and finally, when the robe was shrugged off and pooled to the ground.

 

The Lion, of course, was wearing nothing underneath, his pale skin littered in small scars denoting conflict, battles he’d likely won. His chest was broad, his arms strong, his legs beautiful and toned. Hongbin willed himself to breathe as the Lion slowly began to walk over to the bed, and had soon settled between Hongbin’s legs, so easily spread for him.  
  
“We don’t need these, do we?” The Lion murmured, his hands reaching over and unbuckling Hongbin’s pants, pushing the zip down, pulling his pants off as well as his underwear. Hongbin was positively glowing by now, propped up by the cushions, as the Lion’s eyes roamed down his body, how hard his cock already was. “Pretty boy,” the Lion murmured, leaning down again and kissed his sternum, hands sliding down Hongbin’s sides, resting at his slim hips. “Your name is Hongbin,” he murmured, and Hongbin found it hard to think as Taekwoon began to palm him, desperately trying to not have his hips cant up, to throw back his head. “Mine is Taekwoon.”  
  
Hongbin managed to look up at him then, eyes a little wide. Taekwoon. He mouthed Taekwoon’s name, and Taekwoon’s face softened, leaning over to kiss him, more gentle than Hongbin had ever dreamed. Hongbin moaned into his mouth, his thighs quivering, his toes curling.

  
He was so far gone.  
  


  
  
Hongbin had come three times, and by the end, as Taekwoon had rested beside him, whispering that he had done well, that he was a good boy, that Hongbin had pleased him, Hongbin had flushed as crimson as the pillows that surrounded them. His body was damp with sweat, his chest still willing to calm himself, as he was tucked into Taekwoon’s front, face against his chest. Hongbin breathed Taekwoon in, and despite the sex he smelled nice, his scent intoxicating, and making his heart speed up again. Hongbin trembled, and Taekwoon’s arm around him only gripped tighter. Taekwoon was beautiful, he was powerful, and Hongbin found himself fallen for him.

 

 

 --

 

 

Hongbin’s hands trembled over the knife, the blade glinting in the morning sun from the windows. He hovered over the Capofamilglia, the sheet strewn off him. It’d be so easy, a clean cut. Taekwoon was literally naked underneath him from last night, completely defenceless. It’d be easier now than ever, just cut, Hongbin, and slip away before anyone notices.

  
But he couldn’t.  
  
His hand shakes, and Hongbin’s face is contorted into a grimace. It’d be so easy, so easy, Hongbin, just…  
  
Taekwoon stirred, but he did not move, as if his unconsciousness sensed the danger. His eyes slowly opened, looking up at Hongbin who held the knife to his neck. Hongbin’s eyes widened, and tears welled, a small trace of a sob escaping him. His hand was trembling so hard it was obvious he couldn’t do it.  
  
Taekwoon raised his hand, slowly, taking the knife from Hongbin’s and pulled it away. Hongbin, hanging his head, lets him, and hears it clatter on the ground beside the bed. Hongbin can’t breathe, hiccupping in sobs. He’s fucked it up, everything, everything he came for, because he’d fallen for the man he was meant to kill. Slowly, he bowed his head into Taekwoon’s chest, and Taekwoon let him stay there as he wept.  
  
Eventually, Taekwoon murmurs, “… who sent you?”  
  
Hongbin attempted to sit up again, pressing the back of his palms to his cheeks, his hair a mess, his eyes full of pain. “The Black Doves,” Hongbin began, voice unstable. “They… I … I owe them money, a lot, so I—I was sent to… kill you.”  
  
“But you can’t.”  
  
“I—I can’t.” Hongbin’s eyes ducked down to Hongbin’s chest, almost in shame. Taekwoon’s voice was unreadable, his expression blank.  
  
“Why?”  
  
Hongbin swallowed. “I--  I love you too much.”  
  
Taekwoon scoffed a little, his finger trailing up Hongbin’s neck from his collarbone to his chin. Hongbin cranes his head up, whimpering and exposed.  
  
“I could have you killed for this,” the Capofamiligia murmurs, “or perhaps I should give you back, saying you failed to kill me.”  
  
“N-No,” Hongbin choked, shaking his head as much as he could while Taekwoon slowly caressed up his neck. There was a pause, as if Taekwoon were contemplating what he should do, staring at Hongbin as if he were a test subject; cold and calculated.  
  
“Mm… so pretty Hongbin was a spy after all ...,” and Taekwoon continues to touch him, and Hongbin trembles as Taekwoon’s fingers trail down his torso, as dangerous as knives. “I want you, Hongbin. You are branded, you are mine, aren’t you?”  
  
Hongbin trembled, his mouth trembling, ducking his head. “Yes, yes – I – please, yes, Taekwoon—“  
  
“If you do any sort of betrayal from now on, Hongbin, I will kill you personally. Do you understand?”  
  
Hongbin sobs, his face creasing, nodding over and over. Taekwoon raises his hands and cups Hongbin’s face, thumbs at his cheeks.  
  
“Do not disappoint me.”  
  
“I won’t – I won’t, I promise, please—“  
  
“You will have to kill another to show your loyalty,” and Hongbin couldn’t help but to flinch, looking down to Taekwoon’s chest.  
  


"I want you, to walk into the Black Doves, and kill the boss. It will do us both a favour. If you die, you were not worthy of being at my side. If you rejoin them, I will make sure to kill you personally,” he caressed Hongbin’s cheek softly despite his heavy words. “I, unlike you, do not share your weakness.”

  
Hongbin gave a shuddering smile, looking slowly up at Taekwoon. Even now, as twisted as it was, Hongbin thought of him as beautiful.  
  
“But if you succeed, than you shall remain by my side. It is fair, is it not?”  
  
“Yes,” Hongbin breathes, and Taekwoon allows him to lower him into his chest with fresh tears.

 

 

 -- 

 

 

Hongbin heard the dull beeping of a heart-rate monitor before he opened his eyes. The mattress was stiff, very unlike the luxurious mattress he shared with Taekwoon on most nights, and he found himself frowning, eyes still closed.  
  
“Hongbin,” a murmur of the man he loved, pulling him out of the state, and Hongbin opened his eyes, looking over. Taekwoon sat on the side of the bed, long-fingered hand resting on Hongbin’s upturned wrist. He stared into the Capofamilglia’s eyes, still in a daze.  Taekwoon allowed him a moment to become more lucid, before he asked, “did you kill him?”

  
Hongbin’s eyelashes fluttered as he remembered. The Black Doves, presenting a platter with a lid upon it with the Lion of _La Guingla’s_ head supposedly inside. As he presented the platter to the leader, whose eyes were full of light, his warm voice full of anticipation and praise, Hongbin had watched as the leader of the Black Dove opened the lid with pretty golden hands, and the distraction was enough to unleash the trap that was underneath it.  
  
The loaded gun underneath shot right into the leader’s heart once Hongbin pressed the detonation trigger, and the shock awarded him a few seconds to move and get a head start at his escape. Hongbin remembered the pain, the blood, how he got shot in the shoulder. As he remembered, Hongbin looked over to the bandaged shoulder, his throat dry.  
  
Then, he looked back at the Lion, whose eyes stared down at him intently. He breathed out a small, “yes. He’s gone.”  
  
The Lion leans down, then, taking Hongbin’s chin and tilting it up before they kissed softly. Hongbin keens into it, arching his back up as much as he can without causing himself too much pain, gripping Taekwoon’s arm for leverage.  
  
“Good boy,” Taekwoon said after he broke away, “you may stay by my side.”  
  
Hongbin sobs aloud.

 

 

\--

 

 

Hongbin was taken to a party, rich red blazer with cufflinks and a dress shirt much more expensive than the one he had joined in. As the Consigliere, it was more-so a public excuse to remain by his Capofamilglia’s side than to actually give him advice. Taekwoon only wished to be given it when he was asked, and while he did it often, Hongbin was not allowed to provide advice unless specifically asked.  
  
The Capofamilglia had left him briefly in order to talk to someone, and the dining hall was full of strangers. Hongbin was on edge, knowing that as the man who murdered the leader of the Black Doves, he could be someone’s target within the party. Combined with him and Taekwoon, they were basically walking dollar signs for any bounty hunters. The Capofamilglia, however, did not seem too fussed. So he did not believe he should be either, no matter how much his nerves told him otherwise.  
  
By one of the tables revealing food from all around the world, someone brushed against his elbow, and stood beside him. “Consigliere,” he murmured.  
  
Hongbin looked up; it was Alligatore, who had been much more respectful since joining – especially becoming Consigliere.  
  
“Yes, Alligatore?”  
  
“I… since you’re away from the Capofamilglia, I thought it’d be a good chance to talk to you.”  
  
Hongbin blinked, turning more to appear more approachful. He frowned, “what is it?”  
  
“You were originally from another mafia, you were asked to kill him from an enemy’s perspective. So why do you think so highly of him?” Alligatore murmurs, and the question caught Hongbin by surprise.  
  
“Don’t you think highly of him?” He replied quietly, fidgeting with one of his cufflinks.  
  
“Not the way you do, I think of him highly as a boss and as my leader, but for you it is different,” Hongbin is trying not to go pink at this point. Alligatore’s eyes are unblinking. “Does he love you?”

  
“I—“ Hongbin’s speech faltered, and he looked up at Alligatore and looked down. “He… he doesn’t. I know he doesn’t, following him is—is my decision.”  
  
A hand on the small of his back, and Hongbin flinched, straightening up a bit. Taekwoon was close, standing beside him, staring right at Alligatore. “Hongbin knows whom he belongs to,” and the words made Hongbin’s eyes widen, ducking his head a little.  
  
Taekwoon leans over, kissing Hongbin’s ear, achingly light, “don’t you, little dove?”  
  
  
  
\--

 

 

 

Returning home, Hongbin helped Taekwoon shrug off his suit. He had worn black tonight, golden embroidery on the sleeves. Hongbin thought Taekwoon had looked beautiful, but that was nothing new.  
  
As Hongbin began to unravel his tie, Taekwoon spoke up. “You love me,” Taekwoon murmurs, perhaps more-so of a statement than as question, though Hongbin felt the need to reply.  
  
“Yes,” Hongbin answered, equally as quiet. “I understand that… you don’t.”  
  
Taekwoon blinks slowly, once, twice. “What is love, Hongbin?”  
  
Hongbin freezes, his fingers beginning to tremble around Taekwoon’s tie. He attempted to swallow the the nervous feeling down, and resumed. “It’s… when you… it’s a lot of things,” he began, “it’s a feeling that makes you at peace, and excited, and calm and happy and desperate, all at the same time,” he shudders a little, the tie now unravelled, letting it hang there. “It’s—it’s often unconditional.”  
  
“Mm,” Taekwoon hummed, and he cupped Hongbin’s cheek. He melted into the touch, eyelashes fluttering shut. “I care for you. I will protect you. You are by my side. Is this not enough?”  
  
Hongbin turns his head into Taekwoon’s hand, just a little bit, soaking up every bit of affection from Taekwoon he can get. But it’s not enough, it’s never enough. He wants Taekwoon’s genuine love, his approval, he wants Taekwoon to be his, too.  
  
“Yes,” Hongbin replies softly. “Of course it’s enough.”  
  


 

**Author's Note:**

> to my recipient: I'm not sure if this is what exactly you wanted, but I hope it was good enough regardless! I hope you have a wonderful christmas and a happy new year (or if you don't celebrate it, I hope you have an exceptionally happy holidays)


End file.
